I am in transition. Hope you enjoy the ride through my thoughts, hopes, dreams, stories, adventures, misadventures, and the never ending pursuit of the things we call happy.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

To Compromise or not to compromise, that is indeed a question...

Dearest Husbands Everywhere,

To compromise is to make a deal between different parties where each party gives up part of their demand.
Thanks Wikipedia...

My husband has a painting that freaks me out a bit. It's of a clown old scruffy man something or another. I don't care for clowns. Never have. They just freak me out. Middle aged men going to children's birthday parties, think about it... creepers.

I however have a ceramic rooster that was given to me after my first apartment's house warming party. I am not one of those people that collect roosters but any means. I actually don't like roosters... nor them me. But for some reason, this ugly statue makes me chuckle... My husband however, does not find any humor in my Rooster, whom as of this very moment I have decided to name him Ron.

So, we now have his painting that he claims is sort of a "self portrait" (and disclaimer he looks nothing like him... thank God) hanging in the kitchen for all the world to see and I have Ron also in the kitchen for all the world to see.

Compromise.

Now, something that today I finally forced compromise without his consent was his pile of crap on his side of the bed that has been in accumulation for about a year and a half almost two years. I have in fact heard of the saying "if it won't matter in 20 years than don't make it an argument and let it go". I thought that is what I was doing til I realized I couldn't do that anymore. I am not a clllleeeean freak but that fact that our lil rented house, and our little rental room means that two people have to live and there isn't muuuuch room to escape and shouldn't a room be a bit of an escape, yet I realized even with him knowing my despise for the trash, the laundry that the cat seemed to have been using as a liter box, the random motorcycle bits and parts, the tools, a ton of loose change... somehow where was MY compromise from him? So, after pleading with him, many times over, for when he had time to slowly do a load of laundry here and there, grab a bin and start tossing the trash, put the tools in the tool shed... and nothing but the accumulation getting worse... lets just say I took matters into my own hands.

His side of the bed is clean.

Instead of the 5 to 6 loads that would have been needed to be washed, I picked 1 large load to do for him and put his others out of sight out of mind since they were just becoming more saturated with cat urine... which I say "out of sight" but really instead of doing what I had wanted which was dig a big hole and bury them they have been placed in a place that I can't smell them... I thought that was compromising... right, put the trash where it belonged... in the trash can... concept, and placed the tools in the tool shed and I can sit happy with a clean room... I could get used to this compromising crap.

 I think there are somethings to compromise and others not. I couldn't take it anymore. Yes, in 10 or even 20 years it would have indeed still bothered me.

Judge as you will. Agree if you do. But an ugly clown painting and ugly rooster... happy compromise...

A place to dwell and coexist with another to escape... a wife has to do what a wife has to do. So... ya... to me... that is also compromise-ish.

Til next time... Decide what to fight about... let somethings go... and don't tolerate crap... literally and figuratively.

Signed,
Happy Wife
"Self Portrait"

"Ron"

The unsuspected compromiser and compromisee



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